


Made for the small

by gossamerempire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gossamerempire/pseuds/gossamerempire





	Made for the small

A week after Elia Martell’s 8th name day passes, the Lady of Dorne shares with her a curious thing.

“It won’t be long before we find you a handsome prince,” her mother says, prising the tangles out of her daughter’s long, dark tresses with deft fingers. “It is fortunate that you are such a pretty girl.”

Elia is rendered aghast by her mother’s knowing look and she confides as much to her younger brother. In response, Oberyn wrinkles his delicate nose.

“You shan’t marry anyone!” he cries fiercely, with a petulant stamp of his little feet. “I won’t let them! But if you must, I promise that you will only be wed to the best.”

Oberyn is true to his word; of all the oaths that he enters into when he is a child, the pact that he forges with Elia is not forgotten. When Elia comes of age, scores of suitors are cast aside with a dismissive arch of her brother’s eyebrow. It is only upon the arrival of Rhaegar Targaryen to the shores of their kingdom that Oberyn relents.

It is decided then, that the Dornish Princess and the Crown Prince are to be tethered together in the fall.

“I told you that you were always made for greater things,” Oberyn croons triumphantly on her wedding day, as her stomach curdles with trepidation. “That haughty Lannister bitch pales in comparison to you.”

Much later, after the hammer falls and the blood congealing beneath her fingernails are all that she has to remember her children by, Elia Targaryen becomes a benumbed thing. Amidst the carnage, they come for her. As Ser Gregor Clegane’s thick fingers tighten upon her throat, her brother’s words of yesteryear ring painfully in her ears.

In the end, she wonders if her brother’s high hopes of grandeur for her have shepherded her to her doom. Perhaps Oberyn Martell was wrong; perhaps she was made for the small, instead.


End file.
